


Pawn Shop Blues

by sasha_hawkeyes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU, Pawn Shop, connie is a dork, i cant believe this, jean is a crappy wingman, sasha is a princess who takes waffle irons seriously, springles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_hawkeyes/pseuds/sasha_hawkeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"good old fashioned pawn shop waffle iron bidding war" au </p>
<p>this idea also came from that post by surprisingly-alive-redshirt.tumblr.com (link in the notes at the end)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pawn Shop Blues

Connie never thought he would meet the love of his life like this. It was bizarre, cheesy – like something out of a badly-written (and even more badly-performed) 90's romantic comedy. There she was, walking into his life and into the practically empty pawn shop he spent far too much of his time in.

Her chestnut hair was tied into a tight ponytail, save for the two strands and the bangs which hung loosely, framing her pretty face. Clever and curious brown eyes looked around the store quickly, scanning everything in sight. Her small, pink tongue darted out from slightly parted lips, wetting them before she shouted a cheery “good day” into the practically empty store. And best of all – she wore overalls covered with paint over an old, worn Fall Out Boy t-shirt. Love couldn’t have had a more perfect human form.

“You know you’re acting like a freak, right?” Jean asked. He’d appeared out of nowhere, all silent steps and cocky smirks, nearly giving Connie a fucking heart-attack. “You can’t watch girls through the gaps in my store shelves, you know that.”

“Shut up, you idiot!” complained Connie. It’s not like he was intending to watch her. He just happened to look up once she entered the store, and he happened to see her perfect skin and the long legs she had. It’s not like he was gonna stand there and spy on her, hiding behind shelves and used TV sets, drawing up the courage to start a conversation with her. Oh, wait. That was _exactly_ what Connie intended to do.

The two boys peered through the gaps in the shelves, two pairs of eyes – one wide and smitten, the other amber in color and squinted slightly – watched the girl as she hunched over to examine the price on some toaster/waffle iron abomination. “She’s got nice legs,” Jean commented.

“Your boyfriend has nice legs, too. Don’t be a cheater, Jean.”

A lanky elbow hit Connie square in the stomach and he yelped loudly, which certainly got the girl’s attention. She whipped around quickly, locking eyes with Jean and smiling brightly. “Hi there!” she greeted. But before Connie could get the air back into his lungs, stand up straight and reply to her greeting, she was already turning back around, showing her toned back to him and _oh, god, she must be into sports, those muscles aren’t real. She looks like a swimmer_ , he thought.

The infamous Kirstein Lanky Elbow™ found his ribs a second time. “Go talk to her,” Jean mouthed, shoving Connie out of their row of shelves. The shorter boy stumbled over his feet and threw his friend a half-hearted glare. Jean played the innocent card, smiling fondly as he fixed the price tag on some stupid TV set that’s certainly seen better days.

“Stupid horse-faced bastard,” Connie muttered. He wanted to turn around and walk away, skulk behind the TV sets and, since Reiner accidentally broke the little portable TV he had in his bedroom, probably decide to buy one at a bargain price. But Connie’s legs had a mind of their own. With a confident stride in his step he didn’t even know he had, he approached the cute girl.

She was leaning against the shelf, staring down the godforsaken toaster/waffle iron hybrid, having a silent, secret conversation with the machinery. Connie almost blurted out how cute she looked with that little concentrated frown between her brows. He stood beside her, smiling charmingly and turning his head slightly to the left, showing the better side of his face to the girl. But, too caught up in her conversation with the used waffle iron, the girl didn’t notice. So, Connie cleared his throat and pointedly looked at her.

Brown eyes met his and Connie could feel his knees turning into jelly. Oh, boy. She was even prettier up close, where he could see the warmth of her eyes. She reminded him of a summer’s day and melted chocolate, the sun’s heat and a laughter which bubbles up all the way from your stomach when you see someone trip over their own two feet.

“Oh, can I help you?” she asked him in a voice that sounded like birds chirping in early spring, or some other lovey-dovey romantic shit Shakespeare would spew out.

“Y-Yeah, I was wondering…” started Connie. Words got stuck in his throat and he glanced down, seeking refuge in the pawn shop’s shelves. He caught sight of the ungodly abomination that used waffle-iron was and, upon seeing the price-tag, his heart dropped to his heels. “Ten dollars?!”

Connie was about to turn around and shout at Jean for charging _ten whole dollars_ for a shitty waffle iron that would most likely kill the next person who tried to use it, but a small gasp from the girl stopped him. He glanced over at her (glanced up, since she was a good three inches taller) and saw that cute little frown again, only this time, it was directed at him.

“Oh, no way, mister! I saw that waffle iron first,” she grumbled, setting her hands on her hips and glaring Connie down into submission. What? “Fifteen dollars!”

Wait, did this girl really think he wanted to start a bidding war with her over this death trap waffle iron? Toaster? Whatever the hell it was. _Noooo_ , Connie’s internal voice whined _, I just wanted to hit on you, not bid on a fucking toaster!_ A few shelves over, Connie could hear Jean’s shitty wheezing laughter and, once he glanced Jean's way, he saw his friend bent over, slapping his knee as he laughed his heart out. Oh, it was on.

“Wh- seventeen dollars!”

“Twenty dollars!” the girl shouted, and slammed her fist against the shelf to her right, making a porcelain figurine wobble insecurely on the shelf. Connie had to hand it to her, she was pretty dedicated to this waffle iron, willing to spit out twice its original price. But he was dead-set on talking to her for as long as he could, and if she wanted a bidding-war, so be it!

“Twenty three!”

“Get outta town, twenty five!”

He frowned. This wasn’t gonna work, he only had thirty dollars on him and knowing Jean, there was no way he’d get a _friends-and-family_ discount. He had to stop this bidding war now, but he certainly wasn’t done with talking to the girl. “Twenty seven dollars and,” Connie shouted and pointed his finger at the girl, “go out on a date with me!”

Oh, boy.

That wasn’t exactly what he had planned. The words had made their way out of his mouth without asking anyone, without checking if it was okay to spurt them out. Connie’s cheeks doused bright pink as he held his outstretched finger pointed in the girl’s face. Her confused brown eyes searched over his face and her frown softened slightly, her lips pressing together.

“Thirty dollars, and the date’s your treat,” the girl said. Connie only stared in slight confusion, nodding and setting his hand down.

“Okay, my treat.”

The girl grinned (it was a grin that made Connie’s heart soar) and grabbed the waffle-iron from the shelf. “Great! Friday, seven P.M.” she told him, making her way to the cash register. “We’ll meet in front of the pawn shop.”

Connie wasn’t sure any of this was real as he watched her pay for her death trap waffle iron. The girl made her way back towards the store exit. She stopped in front of him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek and leaving a trace of bright red lipstick on his tanned skin. “My name’s Sasha, by the way.”

“C-Connie,” he replied.

Sasha laughed and stood up straight, getting a pair of sunglasses out of the oversized pocket of her blue overalls. She propped the sunglasses on her face, grinning at him again. “See you Friday, then. Bye, Connie!”

He shouted a “bye” back at her as she exited the store. It was all Connie could do not to die of embarrassment right then and there. “I have a date with pretty legs waffle iron Sasha,” he told Jean once the taller boy had made his way over.

“Yeah, I heard. Your bidding-flirt worked like a charm,” Jean muttered. “I had to do everything but jump from the Empire State to get Marco to go out with me, but you barely move a finger and she says 'okay'. Unbelievable.”

Connie grinned at his friend cockily, feeling a fire spreading through his chest like a vice. “Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, Springer,” Jean said. “And also that lipstick off your cheek. You’re disgusting.”

**Author's Note:**

> still sick, this time i come visit with some springles !!! god bless these two, im sorry if they're all terribly written but im sick and i needed to vent my springles frustrations phew (also since emma wanted to read some more of my stuff, here. eat it up you thirsty ho. love u)
> 
>  
> 
> the post from which i stole the idea again - http://surprisingly-alive-redshirt.tumblr.com/post/101221741147/consider-the-following


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